The Quiet Business of Living
I spent this morning sitting on my back porch, watching a single spider weave a web between two pots of basil. It was so focused, so entirely unbothered by the noise of the street or the fact that I was staring. It reminded me of how often…
The Rustle of Wild Silk
The smell of damp earth after a long drought is a heavy, metallic sweetness that clings to the back of the throat. It is the scent of secrets kept by the soil. I remember running my fingers through tall, dry grass as a child, the blades sharp…
The Salt on the Skin
The air in the tropics has a weight to it, a thick, humid velvet that clings to the back of your throat. It tastes of brine and sun-warmed wood, the kind of scent that settles into the pores of your skin and stays there for days. I remember…